Introduction to Parenthood
by Miss Anonymous hp
Summary: Twentyfour years after the defeat of MaloMyotismon, Tai, Davis, and the rest of the gang are facing new challenges... as parents. A family fic. No main. TO BE REWRITTEN.
1. Lesson One

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Digimon.

**Author's Notes:** So, here we are. The random ongoing ficlet that shall have all of the Adventure children dealing with their own children. How long this is exactly going to be, I cannot say. As of right now, I'm shooting for 25 lessons. If I get more ideas, however, I may go higher, and if I loser inspiration, it may be lower. It all depends.

This may end up being a prologue of sorts to the Second Generation fanfiction that I have been considering in writing, especially since everything that will happen in these little moments are taking place a year before that story would actually begin.

I love constructive criticism!

Enjoy!

* * *

**Introduction to Parenthood**

Lesson One: The Talk

Tai had never been so nervous in his life. Sure, there had been the time when they had been in Datamon's base and he had been so scared that he couldn't move. There had also been the time when Agumon had been captured by the Digimon Emperor and they were forced to fight him. But that was different. _This_ was different.

This was embarrassing.

_Just remember everything that Matt told me to say_, Tai thought as he twiddled his thumbs. _It's just like telling a bedtime story._

It was just a very embarrassing bedtime story. One that had to be told, however, and with Kinta's brown eyes staring up at his father with curiosity, Tai knew that he could not back down now. His son was sitting a few feet in front of him mirroring Tai's cross-legged position on the master bedroom's bed. Spiky brown locks drooped down around the fifteen-year-old's head announcing that it was about time for haircut.

At least, that's what Sora had been telling both of them for a while. Tai did not see a problem with his son's hair; after all, he wore his own very similar to his son's style when he was that age. His just used to defy gravity a lot better than Kinta's did.

His son was dressed in a hooded red-orange t-shirt with a brown long-sleeved shirt underneath. With it, he was wearing olive green cargo pants with brown tennis shoes. If it was not for the slight curl at the ends of Kinta's hair that made it droop like it did, Tai would have claimed that his son looked almost exactly like he did when he was that age.

Kinta, apparently tired of this staring contest between father and son, huffed. "Dad, what is this about?"

Tai tried very hard not to blush. "Um, well… you see…"

"Just spit it out, Dad," Kinta said as he rested his head on the palm of his hand.

Tai took a deep breath. Things like this really should not be that hard.

"Well, you're at the age now where certain… things… might become a lot more apparent to you, and… probably… a lot more interesting, too," Tai stammered, going redder by the minute.

Kinta still seemed oblivious as to where this was going. He switched hands and continued to stare at his father with rapt attention.

"Y-you see… when a man and woman… er… love each other very, very, _very_ much… they sometimes want to-"

It was at that moment that Kinta's eyes widened and he sat up straight, his hands raising and waving frantically for his father to stop talking. "Whoa! Dad!" he cried, looking panicked and awkward. "Are you about to talk about what I _think_ you're about talk about?"

Tai stared at his son, pink tinge still in his cheeks.

"What do you think I'm about to talk about?" he asked.

Kinta went pink as he avoided his father's gaze.

"Well, you know…" he began, doing a pretty good imitation of Tai as he struggled to stop from stammering. He looked around the room, making sure that door was locked as he did, as though afraid that he was going to be overheard, before leaning forward and whispering the word, "_Sex_."

If possible, Tai went redder.

"Well, yes," he said, trying to sound dignified even though he had never felt more awkward in his life. "I figured that you are old enough that we should talk about-"

"Oh! There's no need!" Kinta said quickly, his eyes darting around as though looking for an escape. "I think I pretty much have everything I need to know!"

Tai's eyes widened. "You mean you already _know_-"

"Yeah! Pretty much!" the brunette said.

Going pale, Tai asked, "Kinta, have you ever…?"

"No!" Kinta went bright red as his eyes widened in humiliation. "No, of course not! I meant- I mean- I just hear things! At school and stuff! I haven't… you know…"

The father visibly relaxed. "So, you haven't…"

"No way!"

"Good," he sighed.

He looked at his son who had let his face fall into his hands to hide his flaming face. He couldn't help the smile that spread across his face as looked at him. It was true that Kinta tended to get into trouble a lot – a trait that he had got from his father – but he was a good boy. He got pretty good grades, was well liked, and had a good head on his shoulders. Tai often told Sora that he must have gotten all of those traits from her.

"Can I go now?" Kinta whined, peaking out between his fingers up at his father.

"Of course, but, Kinta, if you have any questions about _anything_…?"

Kinta, though still blushing, smiled. "I know, Dad. I can come to you for anything."

* * *

Next up: "Role Models" featuring Izzy and his daughter, Minako. 


	2. Lesson Two

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Digimon.

**Author's Notes:** The next chapter of C&W should be up by tomorrow night. Until I get that one up, I won't post the next chapter of this story even though it's already typed up and ready to go. I call it writer's discipline... sort of. I don't know.

I love constructive criticism.

Enjoy!

* * *

**Introduction to Parenthood**

Lesson Two: Role Models

It was Saturday, and Minako was already up even though it was early. However, it was the weekend, and she was not up early so that she could go hang out with her friends or go enjoy the good weather that they were having. Instead, she was up so that she could test-drive her father's new computer software program. Standing at her bedroom door, watching Mina type away at the computer and click at random icons, Izzy wished he knew how to make her get out of the house. Remiyu and Mamio had already dropped by asking her to come play with promises of freeze tag at the park, but Mina had shaken her head.

Izzy knocked on the doorframe, startling a reaction out of his daughter. Her fingers stumbled on the keyboard as she jumped in her seat before she spun around to face her father, dark red curls bouncing as she moved. The nine-year-old smiled upon seeing who it was.

"Hey, Daddy! This new program is really neat!" she gushed, grinning up at him. "I've only got halfway through the first part, but so far it's great."

He smiled sadly down at her. "I'm glad that you like it."

"It's really complex, though," she admitted. "It's going to take me a while to get all the way through it, but that's okay. You're so smart, Daddy." She beamed up at him.

Izzy could not help the swell of pride that flooded through him at his daughter's declaration. He watched as she turned back to the computer, the green bows in her hair jumping with the movement of her head. She was also dressed in a darling brown sweater, green tank top, and brown skirt; it was obvious that today, she had been dressed by her mother. Unfortunately, nobody was even going to see it if she stayed inside all day.

"This part is particularly difficult to understand," she muttered, frowning slightly at the screen, before hastily adding, "But I don't want you to tell me!"

"Maybe you should take a break?" he offered, hopefully. "Go outside, play a bit, come back with a clear mind and new ideas?"

"No way!" Mina said as she began to play with several windows on the computer at once. "I'm already in and focused! I don't want to lose my concentration now!"

"If you keep figuring out all of my programs so quickly, you're going to start making me look bad," Izzy joked.

"I doubt that," she said, smiling. "Besides, this isn't an official test. I'm only doing this for fun!"

"Fun?" he repeated. His voice sounded a little forced and even a little helpless, but Minako did not seem to notice. "You could have fun with your friends."

"Why would I want to do that? I'm perfectly happy right here."

And she sounded genuinely curious that it almost broke Izzy's heart to hear it. He had been the same way at her age; curious and seeking answers through his pineapple laptop that he could never foresee parting with. At that age, he would have rather surfed the internet than spend an afternoon with his friends. It was a fault of his that had almost lost him his friends, and one that he would never want to see his middle child have to go through.

"So, why are you still here, Daddy? Didn't you have an important meeting to get to?" Mina asked, blinking up at her father, unaware of the inner turmoil going through his head.

"I did," he admitted, crossing the room so that he was standing by her desk. "But then I saw that you were going to be here all alone while your mother was at the store with your brother and your sister was at Kinta's, so I decided to stay."

She stared at him with those dark brown eyes of hers. "You stayed because of me?"

"That's right," he nodded. "I didn't want to leave you here all alone."

"I would have been fine," she said as though it was obvious.

"I'm sure you would have," he said.

There was a pause.

"I got it!" she cried, a wide grin on her face. "Phenomenal! The data stream is a series of complex computer codes that are flowing interchangeably in order for the program to work! Amazing, Daddy! You're a genius!"

"Thanks, Mina," Izzy said, smiling down at the top of his daughter's head. "Now, why don't you take a break and go outside to play with Remi and Mamio? I'm sure they would appreciate it."

Mina stared up at her father. "But… I want to figure this out… so that when I grow up, I can be just like you!"

The father's eyes widened. "You want to be just like me?"

She smiled. "Of course! Who else would I want to be like?"

"I d-don't know," he stammered, reeling from his daughter's revelation. "Maybe Tai… Matt… Joe, even…"

"No, Daddy! I want to be just like you!"

"Oh, Mina…" And with that, he pulled his daughter into his arms, overcome by sudden emotion. He kissed the top of her head and whispered, "I'm really honored that you would want to be like me, but there's no hurry, and your friends are waiting. Why don't you go outside and have some fun for a while? It's what I would have done at your age."

It wasn't true, but Izzy said it nonetheless.

Mina pulled away from her father to look up into his eyes as though searching for something. Finding it, she smiled and nodded.

"Okay, Daddy, if that's what will make you happy."

"It will," he promised.

With that, she skipped out of the house, but Izzy was not surprised when she turned up two hours later, melting ice cream in hand, and headed straight for the computer.

* * *

Next up: "Valuable Companion" featuring Cody and his son, Zakuro. 


	3. Lesson Three

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Digimon.

**Author's Notes:** So, this is my second Cody-filled chapter being submitted today. He's actually kind of fun to write; I never really thought about it before. Good old reliable Cody. You just got to love him.

I love constructive criticism.

Enjoy!

* * *

**Introduction to Parenthood**

Lesson Three: Valuable Companion

"Dad," the twelve-year-old said, "come play video games with me, please?"

Cody looked up into Zakuro's face, and he could feel his own expression turning into one of frustration. It was not frustration directed at his son, but at the case he was working on at the moment – it was a tough one. A drive-by shooting had taken a child's life – a child that was the same age as his son who was staring up at him pleadingly – and the parents wanted justice. Drive-by shootings were always hard to prove, however, and even though Cody knew that the defendant was as guilty as sin, the evidence had all been circumstantial which meant that the killers might get away. It was driving him crazy.

"Mom's making dinner right now. She said it should be done in about an hour. Just play with me till then, please?" Zero begged.

"Dinner," he repeated flatly.

His son shuffled where he stood. "Yeah… you've been working since this morning. You even skipped lunch! Don't you think you should take a break?"

Cody checked the clock on the wall as though to make sure that his son was not pulling his leg before letting out a long drawn-out sigh. He ran a hand through his hair. "I'm that bad, huh?"

"Uh-huh," Zero said, smiling slyly up at him. "TK called earlier, but Mom had to tell him that you were in one of your moods and probably wouldn't like to talk much."

"I'll have to call TK back later," he muttered, eyes staring off into the distance, his thoughts still on the case.

"C'mon," Zero whined, tugging on his father's arm. "We'll play a fighting game, and I'll go easy on you!"

"I don't like fighting games," Cody muttered pitifully.

"You liked fighting games last week!"

"I don't like them this week," he said, knowing that he sounded like a child. But the words on the page were beginning to blur and the pressure of the court date was starting to weigh on his back; he really needed to stay focused.

Unfortunately for Cody, his son had inherited his stubbornness from his mother. "A racing game, then."

"How about you just play it on one-player," Cody suggested, trying to dissuade him.

"Because it's not as fun!" Zero said, pouting slightly. "I like playing with you a lot more than playing by myself… even though you always lose. Now, come _on_; let's go have some real fun by sitting ourselves down in front of the television and killing a few brain cells!" His son was grinning cheekily up at him, and Cody couldn't help but chuckle. "I'll even let you win."

"Alright, you win!" Cody finally declared, dropping his pen down onto the desk. He stood with another tug from his son and stretched his arms, a few cracks resounding as he did so. He grimaced. He was getting old.

Zero grinned up at him, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "So, racing game?"

"I'm first player!" Cody declared dropping down onto the sofa.

"No way!" his son said, snatching the controller away. "My game, I'm first player!"

"Hey! Who bought the game?"

Father and son glared at each other for a moment, each willing the other to back down. Then a smile broke out across Cody's face, and Zero grinned.

"Alright, alright," the father conceded, "you're first player. So, what kind of cars are we racing today?"

"How about… _Monster trucks!_"

"Monster trucks?" he repeated, sounding incredulous. "They're not even really that fast!"

"Oh yeah?" the younger brunette challenged. "And what would _you_ choose?"

"Go karts?"

This time, it was Zero's turn to look incredulous. "_Go karts_!? Those aren't any fun!" he said, shaking his head at his dad's lack of knowledge on video game fun. "Oh, I know what'll be good… Motorcycles!"

"Motorcycles?"

"Yup. You'll love it! Trust me."

And the grin on his son's face told him that he should probably be a little weary. Either way, he picked up the second controller and watched as his son chose the course and vehicle they were going to race. As Zero chose the make and model of his own motorcycle, Cody threw an arm around his shoulders. Dark brown eyes looked up at him, confused.

"I want you to know that I appreciate this," Cody said in a low voice.

Zero gave a small smile. "The game?"

"The game," he agreed. "The company."

"Me too, Dad," he whispered as he leaned into his father's side. "Thanks for playing with me."

"Anytime."

* * *

Next up: "Advantages" featuring Davis and his son, Daichi. 


	4. Lesson Four

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Digimon.

**Author's Note:** Again, the next chapter will be a little wait in between as I write up the next chapter for C&W. So, expect at least a two day - or maybe less - lag time. Also, a little heads up: I will be entertaining friends this weekend so any updates will probably not come till Monday unless all of you are lucky. Heh.

And yes, Davis is a little vindictive man, isn't he? Hehe...

I love constructive criticism.

Enjoy!

* * *

**Introduction to Parenthood**

Lesson Four: Advantages

So far, Davis had found very few advantages to being both A) a parent and B) a soccer coach. It was not as though he despised being either one, but as opposed to just being regular old Davis, there was not that much of a difference. When he did find advantages, they were mostly easily seen thanks to his son Daichi. Dai did not realize that he was helping his father find the good points, and if Davis did not pay attention himself, they would often pass him by without him noticing.

One of the greatest advantages by far, however, was the fact that he got to pick the punishments and what exactly his son was being punished for.

"Seija, good form today. You're looking a lot better! You too, Emori!" He patted the former boy on the back.

Both boys looked up at their soccer coach with proud grins.

"Good form?" Seija repeated. "It'll be great form by tomorrow, Coach!"

"Not better than me, though!" Emori laughed.

"Yeah, right! I bet I can be faster than you by tomorrow's practice," the boy proclaimed.

"You're on!" the other boy cried as they both jogged off the field.

Davis smiled after them. He remembered being that competitive and happy while playing soccer; it seemed like a lifetime ago to him sometimes. A small sigh fell past his lips and he patted Tomika on the back as she passed him.

"You were awesome today, Tomi," he said, grinning. "Keep showing those boys how to do it."

"You got it, Davis!" Tai's only daughter said with a smirk. "It's the only way I get any respect around here!"

"Hey, I show you respect," her blond-haired cousin said with a playfully wounded look.

"You did some spectacular saves out there today, Kouru," Davis told him, ruffling the blonde's hair. "Keep it up."

"I plan to!" the twin announced as his brother joined him after climbing down from the bleachers. "You coming, Dai?"

"Not today, he's not," Davis said before his son could answer.

The three cousins shared a confused look, but at seeing the sly grin that was spread across Davis's face, they knew better than to ask anything. They hid their giggles before bouncing off in quick retreat. He turned toward his son who was standing with a water bottle in hand; he looked weary and a little frightened.

"There's something wrong with that smile," he muttered, staring at his father.

"Four laps around the field," Davis said, simply.

Dai stared at his father for a second, mouth slightly agape, as though not believing what he just heart. He was so surprised that he almost dropped the water bottle in his hands, and if it were not for his quick reflexes, the lawn beneath his feet would have gotten a nice watering from it.

His son was still rather short for his age (something that the boy detested greatly), but it made him fast and speedy on the soccer field. His burgundy hair was a lot tamer than Davis's had been and made the spiky locks look as though they were placed that way for a specific purpose. And hanging around his neck was an old pair of goggles that would – unfortunately – probably need replacing someday soon.

The entire sight made Davis's grin simply grow.

"You're kidding me!" Dai finally managed to sputter out.

"Nope, afraid not," he said with a serene look. "Four laps around the field, please. Maybe if you do them quickly, you might be able to catch up with Tomi and the twins."

"But I just spent an hour kicking balls at Kou's face without a break! This should be considered child cruelty!" Dai cried.

"Well, maybe next time you'll think twice about eating random noodles that you find in the fridge," said Davis. "I, however, have to reschedule our next practice."

"You're not serious!"

"Actually, I am. Apparently the dance team signed up for the same day to practice some outdoor routines before I did, so I'll probably move it to either the next day or the day before."

"You're making me do four laps around the field for eating some cold noodles?"

"They weren't just any noodles," Davis explained slowly. "They were _Matt's_ noodles. I begged Matt for three weeks to make some noodles for me, and when he finally does, I put them in the fridge to save for dinner… and you sneak in and eat them!"

Dai threw his hands up in the air. "Get Uncle Matt to make you some more noodles, then!"

"Dai," Davis sighed, "I cannot control when Matt makes noodles nor can I control when they show up as a specialty on his menu. However, I _can_ control how many laps you have to do. And that's four. Now. Have fun!" The smirk was back.

"You have got to be the most evil dad, _ever_," Dai pouted.

"I am a man who loves his noodles," Davis said. "Well, you better get started. We're losing daylight!"

"_Evil_," Dai repeated.

* * *

Next up: "Extra Effort" featuring Joe and his son, Hiro. 


	5. Lesson Five

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Digimon.

**Author's Notes:** Hmm... I shall continue to update this to my heart's content mostly because I'm having fun with it. However, I must admit, I feel unloved. I'm so very much lacking in reviews for this story, and it's really upsetting! Not to sound like a nag or anything... but I just thought I'd mention it so that I could ask what's going on?

This is the longest chapter so far.

I love constructive criticism!

Enjoy!

* * *

**Introduction to Parenthood**

Lesson Five: Extra Effort

Joe saw the television screen long before he saw Hiro – it was showing the hallways of a hospital. Long pristine white walls that seemed far too bare to be natural were on either side of the camera, and there were doctors and nurses zooming by the shot every which way – doctors in white lab coats along with nurses in blue scrubs and even patients, wearing the loose hospital garments that were given to them, shuffling down the corridor uncertainly.

As Joe stared, the camera took a sharp right and entered what he immediately recognized as the ICU. The camera sped off through the scrambling of the hospital staff and the critically injured innocents before entering the surgical room. One look told Joe that the patient that the camera was focusing on was probably in a car accident from the contusion to the head and the broken wrist. From the way the surgical team was working on cutting open the patient's chest cavity probably meant that he had some internal bleeding as well.

Joe stared at the screen for a second before realizing that this mindless display of blood and guts was not just another television hyped medical drama – it was an actual taping of a real surgery. Walking into the spacious living room, he focused on the narrator's words.

"_Hypovolemia shock has already set in, so the doctors must work quickly to isolate the location of the internal bleeding._"

He waited for the channel to change – he doubted anybody in the house except himself to find this documentary even the slightest bit interesting – but was surprised when it remained. Walking into the room, he saw why. Hiro was sitting in front of the television with a notebook covered in notes in his lap and a big textbook – _Is that one of my college medical books?_ – sitting in front of him.

He was watching the show; albeit with a little difficulty if the way his eyebrows kept knitting together in confusion every time a new medical term came up was any indication.

"_Though the victim has sustained other injuries during the accident including a head wound that could possibly be a concussion, the hemorrhage must be stopped before pressure can be put against the internal organs which could possibly cause them to shut down. If the bleeding is not stopped soon, the build up of blood could lead to brain damage and then possibly death._"

From the way Hiro's pen is bouncing in his hand and the way he is leaning forward slightly, dark blue eyes trained on the screen, Joe could tell that his son was every bit interested in seeing what happened next. It was almost enough to make him not want to interrupt. Filled with nothing but unsatisfied curiosity, however, he couldn't help himself.

"Hey, Hiro."

A quick jerk of the ten-year-old's hand caused the channel to change. It took Joe a moment to realize that the remote had been lying by his son's side. He glanced at the television and blinked. If he had not known exactly what was on a moment before, he would have assumed that it was still the same show – the approach of two doctors talking about their love lives, however, proved it was a medical drama.

Joe frowned.

"Hey, dad!" Hiro said, kicking the medical book under the coffee table.

The blue-haired man hesitated for a moment.

"Can I sit?" he asked after a moment. His eyes darted toward where he knew the textbook was being hidden, but he quickly averted his gaze. There was no reason to send Hiro into a panic by bringing up the book right away. Obviously, his son had not wanted him to know that he had been studying medicine.

Hiro, looking nervous with a pink hue dancing across his cheeks, nodded before standing from the floor where he had been sitting and plopping down on the sofa. Joe took a seat beside him, uncertain of what to say for a moment.

"What are you watching?" he asked, finally, being careful to sound curious so that Hiro did not know that he had caught what he had been watching before.

Hiro's anxious expression turned into an easy smile, and he shrugged. "I'm not sure… Some weird medical drama that doesn't really make much sense. There's nothing else on."

"Medical dramas are never as good as the real thing." He reached forward and lifted the big textbook out from underneath the coffee table. He studied it for a second – it was definitely the book he had used as a college freshman – before turning to look at his son. "Doing a little extra studying?"

Hiro flushed to the roots of his hair. "Um… maybe…"

"Why?" Joe asked.

Hiro swung his feet back and forth. Since they were sitting on the couch, Hiro's feet did not quite touch the ground. He was short for his age – had always been – with honey-colored hair and a smooth heart-shaped face. Everything about him practically screamed Mimi's son. The only thing that let people know that this little miracle was also apart of Joe was the sapphire eyes and the way his hair fell; it was exactly how Joe had warn his hair when he had first entered Medical School.

"Why am I reading that? Or why didn't I want you to know?" he mumbled, stuffing his hands in the pouch pocket of his pale-orange hooded sweatshirt.

"Both."

"Well… at Sam's party a few months ago, when Yolei fainted, you didn't panic _at all_. Everybody was really worried and freaking out, but you were completely calm!"

"I was worried, too," he said, gently.

"I know that, but you actually knew what to do, and that was the difference!"

"So, why didn't you want me to know?"

"I don't know," Hiro murmured, the blush reaching the tips of his ears. "I was… embarrassed," he admitted, ducking his head from his father's view. "I was hoping to skip over the learning part and just – I don't know – surprise you with the fact that I just knew what to do."

"Why didn't you come to me for help if you wanted to learn?" Joe asked. "Did you think I'd be upset?"

"No…"

"Condescending?"

"Maybe," he mumbled, bringing his legs up so that he could hide his face in his knees. "You're really good at what you do… and you're so calm when something happens… I just, I want to be like that. I panic so easily." He cleared his throat and finally turned to look his father in the face. "I'm not very good, though."

Joe smiled. "What chapter are you on?"

"Seven. I never moved on from a chapter unless I got a perfect percent on the test at the end of each chapter. I wanted to make sure that I understood."

"How long have you been studying this stuff for?"

"Since the party… so, I guess… three months?" He paused, his eyes looking skyward as he appeared to do the calculation in his head. "Yeah, three months. Why?"

"Seven chapters in three months. That's impressive, not to mention the fact that you are only ten-years-old. I was struggling with this stuff when I was nineteen. You almost make me look bad."

The blush that had slowly begun to fade from Hiro's face returned full force and he ducked his head once again. "I watched all of your favorite medical shows," he admitted.

"Good," he said, dropping the book on the table. "You in the mood for ice cream?"

"Uh… yeah?" He sounded confused by the sudden change in topics.

"Great. Let's go get some."

"With toppings too?" Hiro asked, jumping to his feet and following his father toward the foyer.

"_Extra_ toppings," Joe promised. They left into the warm summer sun, and he mentally reminded himself to call Mimi and let her know where they had disappeared off to. "Hiro, I'm proud of you. But you're only a kid; it's okay to panic. I know I did my fair share when I was your age."

Hiro smiled even as the pink hue remained painted on his face.

* * *

Next up: "Family Structure" featuring Ken's thoughts on his son, Tsuneki. 


	6. Lesson Six

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Digimon.

**Author's Note:** Well, since my last update, I have lost power in my home over five times. Now, usually, this does not worry me as this is a normal occurrence during summer showers in Texas. However, for some reason, the constant power outages must have screwed with my computer because it lost me this chapter, the next two chapters, and even the previous chapter (which had already been posted, thank God). It also lost me the beginning of the next chapter for C&W. This, of course, means that I must rewrite quite a few things. I'll try to get the next chapter of C&W up by the end of the week along with the next chapter of this story.

Also, I have not been getting Review Alerts lately in my email for some strange reason, so for those of you who have not gotten replies from me, just know that is the reason. Hopefully, will fix that soon.

Thank you for reading!

I love constructive criticism.

Enjoy!

* * *

**Introduction to Parenthood**

Lesson Six: Family Structure

Ken liked spending time with Tsuneki most of all.

Osamu had the charm and knowledge to be mature, and he understood his father. His oldest and first child, Sam was brought into this world with an open mind and even bigger heart. He understood that the world was not perfect, that his father was not perfect. He never felt nervous around Sam.

Rizu, his oldest daughter, was built in her mother's image but rarely lost control of her emotions and looked eternally comfortable in her own skin, and Yumia, for all her naiveté, had a knack for seeing and understanding people in a way that adults would never get.

Ken would have been glad to spend time with any of them at any time. He was comfortable around them – they understood their father and just as easily, he understood them too.

He was not comfortable around Tsuneki, not consistently. When he was around Nicky, he was too aware of those wide dark eyes – his own eyes – following him around. He was always afraid that he was going to make a mistake, screw up somehow and pull down the perfect curtain that his son had put up. He was in the middle of a school play, and any minute, he was going to forget his lines.

Nicky was always questioning everything, trying to figure everything out. There were far too many answers for him to find, and not enough time, but he kept searching and searching. There was one thing that he never questioned, though, and that was his father and Ken's place in his life. In Nicky's mind, Ken was perfect, and he could conquer and world and any evil that came along with a few words and an iron fist.

Ken never thought of himself as a brave man; he left titles like that up to Davis or Tai or even TK, for all his recklessness. There were far too many things in the world that he feared to be called brave. But underneath everything, he feared Nicky, that look in his eyes, and that image that his son had of him.

There was a flame within Nicky, one that spoke of the innocence that he carried. It was beautiful and bright, but Ken was afraid of it. He was afraid that one day his son would look up at him those wide dark eyes and see Ken for who he truly was – dark, tainted – and as quickly as that, the flame would be extinguished as though caught in a summer shower. And a wick like that cannot be relit.

But he still liked spending time with Nicky. It was that unwavering faith in his father that made Ken want to be everything that Nicky thought he was, and for a moment, the dark-haired Digidestined could pretend that he was exactly that – light, pure, and good.

* * *

Next up: "Support Systems" featuring Matt and his son, Mamio. 


	7. Lesson Seven

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Digimon.

**Author's Note: **Funnily enough, I was originally going to name this character 'Mamoru', but then a friend of mine pointed out that between Minako and Mamoru, it was beginning to sound like I was trying to recreate Sailor Moon or something. So, I changed the name. This chapter was also originally a lot shorter, but the rewrite added about half a page and I'm not even sure how. Oh well.

I love constructive criticism.

Enjoy!

* * *

**Introduction to Parenthood**

Lesson Seven: Support Systems

Mamio was sitting on the roof staring up into the sky when Matt finally managed to climb up there. Matt was not trying to be quiet, so he knew that his son heard him even as the nine-year-old refused to turn around. Jinn, his daughter, had hinted to him that the younger boy had not had a good day, and even from just looking at him from behind, Matt could see that was true.

The younger boy was sitting near the edge of the rooftop with his knees pulled up to his chest, his arms hugging them tightly as he sat there. His bronze hair fell around his ears in neat wind-tussled locks, the strands just barely long enough to brush up against the back of his bare neck. He was hunched forward, hiding his face mostly in his knees even as he continued to stare at the sky, and as Matt approached, he saw his son's brown gloved-hands tighten their grip on his elbows.

"Hey," Matt said softly. "I brought you this."

Mamio did not even look to see what 'this' was. "Dad, you should be at the restaurant. It's rush time; you need all the chefs possible."

"It's my day off," he said easily.

There was a pause. Then Mamio turned his head toward his father and his blue eyes came into view. The air whistled around them. In his hand was a mug of cocoa; the steam was rising into the air being carried off by the wind along with the heavenly sent of chocolate. When Mamio made no move to grab it from him, Matt practically shoved it into his hands.

"Here."

His son did nothing at first. "This is hot cocoa."

"Yeah."

"I thought Mom said that we weren't allowed to have sweets right before bed."

"You aren't. But I figured this was time for an exception." Matt settled down beside his son carefully. What his son ever saw in the rooftop, he never knew. "Besides," he added, "you looked upset. I thought I could try to cheer you up and maybe calm you down."

"Cocoa is pure sugar, Dad. It's not supposed to calm you down."

"Well, my special blend does. It's a miracle worker," he boasted before stealing the cup back from Mamio and taking a sip from it himself. He gave a deep, satisfied sigh. "Perfect."

It was obvious that Mamio wanted to contradict him again, but after a look from his father, he simply took a drink from the mug. A smile worked its way across Matt's face as he visibly saw the tension in his son's shoulders melt away. He finished his cocoa in silence, and Matt waited until he saw the stress of whatever was on his mind fade quite a bit to say something.

"So, you want to tell me what was on your mind?"

Mamio winced and turned away, but Matt waited patiently. "It's not that big of a deal."

"It must be big to you."

"It's really not! I mean… I just overreacted, that's all."

Matt brushed a lone leaf out of his son's hair. "I doubt that. Tell me about it."

"I'd rather not. It'd just be a waste of time."

"Don't say that," Matt said immediately. "If it bothers you, then it is not a waste of time. And I'm willing to listen;" he rested his hand on Mamio's shoulder, "isn't that enough?"

"I suppose so…" Mamio's voice sounded small, as though he was suspecting Matt to take back his offer any second, and Matt simply squeezed his shoulder to let him know that he was still sitting there.

"Then talk."

They fell into silence again, and Matt knew that Mamio was trying to find the words. He watched the cars below them pass in the silence. A stray cat crossed the street in the darkness, and far off, a dog barked. Finally, a small sigh fell past Mamio's lips, and he began to talk.

"People at school don't like me," he muttered.

Matt frowned at that. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know… They just don't. I-I guess it's not that bad… I mean, I have Remi and Mina… well, when she's not glued to the computer anyway. But the other kids, they just don't like me."

"What do they do?" he asked.

Mamio shrugged. "Different things. Tease me, mostly… sometimes they steal my stuff. Just little things," he added quickly seeing Matt's expression, "like pencils or erasers. I just… I wish I knew why they didn't like me."

"You shouldn't care what other people think about you," the father of two said, but even as the words left his mouth, he knew they sounded empty. His son didn't need to be told to just suck this up and deal with it; he needed words of support.

"I don't!" Mamio protested weakly. A pause. "Well, I guess I do… sorta… but I can't help it… I just wish I knew what was wrong with me."

"Mamio, you are a great person. There is _nothing _wrong with you." Mamio did not look convinced. "_Nothing_, you hear? Those kids… they don't know what they're talking about. It's like you said, you have two great friends, both of which happen to be very bright and wise. Now, if there was anything wrong with you, they would know, wouldn't they? They are both much too smart to be friends with somebody who is not worthy of that friendship."

Mamio smiled slightly but then faltered again. "Then why are the other kids like that?"

"Kids are cruel, Mamio. Sometimes they act that way because they're jealous or afraid or because that's what they were told to do… sometimes they don't even know why they are doing what they are doing. And sometimes… kids act that way because they want to be your friend, but they just don't know how to show it." Memories of his own stupid mistakes concerning friendship were flashing through his mind. "Maybe you should talk to them, show them that there's nothing to be afraid of."

There was a pause, and then Mamio shook his head. "I don't know what they have to be afraid of; I'm not that scary of a person."

Matt smiled. "No. No, you're not. But maybe it's not you that they're afraid of."

Mamio leaned against his father's side and sighed. "You're probably right," he murmured. "You usually are."

* * *

Next up: "Discipline" featuring TK and his son, Naoki. 


	8. Lesson Eight

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Digimon.

**Author's Note: **"Naoki" and "Kouru" are the Takaishi twins. Now, where in the world did I come up with those names? Well, that's a funny story, actually... You see, ironically, I stole both of those names from Frontier Second Generation stories. In both stories, Kouichi Kimura had a son, and in one of them, his name was "Kouru" and in another, his name was "Naoki". So, there you go, the origins of the random pair for the twins. And to tell you the truth, those names were last ditch efforts to finally pick something, heh. I have the worst trouble with names.

I love constructive criticism!

Enjoy!

* * *

**Introduction to Parenthood**

Lesson Eight: Discipline

TK had never seen a kicked puppy in his life, but he imagined it would look just like Naoki. The twin was fidgeting in his socks, shuffling his feet back and forth in weird, twitchy motions. His eyes looked oversized and teary, the pupils darting back and forth as though looking for an escape. His bottom lip was trembling, too, and TK could just imagine the heartbreaking waver that would be present in the boy's voice if he tried to talk.

The father of two tried to say something, but then thought against it and shut his mouth once again. He surveyed Nao from top to bottom. Soaked socks. Ripped jeans. Big blue eyes brimming over with tears.

_Remember_, TK thought, biting his tongue, _he's only eleven._

Eleven or not, though, TK could not – in all the scenarios he played over in his mind – figure out exactly how Nao had gotten into this state or how he had taken down the living room with him. With Kari still at school and Kouru at soccer practice, TK had been home alone most of the day with Naoki until the author had decided to step out for a moment to get a few groceries they were lacking. Nao had said he would be fine by himself. TK had believed him.

Only to return to _this_.

What exactly _this_ was, TK still did not know.

There was the awful stench of burnt fabric wafting throughout the room, obviously coming from the smoke seeping up from the pile of curtains in the corner of the room. The same curtains that used to hang from the front windows. The smoke continued to rise, and TK hoped that this was not a sign that the pile of cloth was going to catch fire again – He said again only because everything in the pile seemed to be soaked with water, creating a nice big round ring of wetness in the carpet around it; the same ring that was still growing as TK stared at it.

Nao was a good kid; whatever he had done to simultaneously destroy his jeans and the curtains of the house had apparently taught him a good lesson. The scorch marks on his socks would at least leave an impression. And even if Kari was going to be horrified to learn that her curtains were destroyed, he _was_ a good kid. A good kid who was kind and charismatic but not as troublemaking or loud as his restless twin brother. A good kid who… deserved something right now, a type of sympathy. A good kid who looked a second away from an emotional breakdown if TK was to say the wrong thing.

The older blonde took this all into account two seconds after blurting out, "Nao, what in the world happened?"

The bottom lip trembled pathetically. "I, uh… I…"

"Start at the beginning," he coaxed, trying to sound gentle.

"I, uh… kinda… messed up…"

"How?"

"Um… I, uh… um…"

"Nao," he began, realizing that he was going to get nowhere like this. He reminded himself to remain calm. At least smoke wasn't rising from the moist curtains anymore. "What happened to the curtains?"

"They, uh… they caught on fire… I put them out."

"With water?"

Nao closed his eyes and an angry blush appeared. "Uh… no… not at first… I tried to put it out with the throw pillow."

TK glanced back toward the pile of curtains, finally catching site of the charred throw pillow – it looks like a deflated beach ball. He licked his lips.

"Naoki Takaishi," he said, letting the name fall from his lips like thick molasses.

If Naoki had gone any paler, TK would have been worried as the sudden loss of blood. As it was, it was the exact desired effect that he had hoped for. And Matt used to say that he couldn't be intimidating.

"Yes?" the younger boy squeaked.

"Are you telling me that you tried to put out a fire with a throw pillow when you were standing a mere five feet away from the kitchen where there was plenty of water available?"

"I, um… I tried to carry the curtains there, but my jeans caught on the table and I kinda tripped." He winced, as though expecting a reprimand at that. When TK said nothing, he continued, "And, um… I kinda fell onto it, so I just grabbed the closest thing to me, which happened to be the throw pillow." Nao glanced down at his hands. "I kinda burnt myself a little when I fell. Think I might've sprained my wrist, too."

"So how'd the water get there?"

"Well, the pillow didn't exactly… work like I thought it would. So I ran to grab the hose from the sink, and…" He glanced at the pile of soggy curtains. "Yeah."

TK sighed. "C'mere. Let me see your hands."

Nao shuffled forward and extended his hands. The tops were flushed from heat, and when TK flipped them over – noticing how Nao winced when he gripped his son's left – he saw that they looked badly sunburned with skin peeling back from the fingertips.

"I was trying to keep the fire as far from me as possible, but when I fell, I kinda just landed on it," he said, miserably.

TK released his son's hands. "Alright, we're heading to the hospital. This is worse than I expected. And next time," he paused, to throw an arm around Nao's shoulders so that he couldn't retreat, "tell me if you're hurt before I start in on my lecture."

Nao frowned at the idea of 'next time' but then smiled again. "Okay, Dad."

"If we hurry, we may have enough time to clean up before your mother comes home," TK said.

The older man shepherded Nao out of the house, only letting them pause for Nao to discard himself of his soggy socks and for them to put on their shoes. Nao, despite everything, was grinning from ear to ear looking like a condemned prisoner who was being allowed to see sunlight again. The blonde boy looked up at his father, and TK was glad to see that the kicked puppy look was gone and instead his usual easy 'everything is going to be okay' look was present instead.

TK stopped them at the car and Nao looked up him, confused.

"When we get back, I still need to know how you managed to catch the curtains on fire."

* * *

Next up: "Embracing the Imagination" featuring Yolei and her daughter, Yumia. 


End file.
